


AWAE Modern AU Outtakes

by notsowriterly



Series: AWAE Modern AU Drabbles [3]
Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And Anne is literally me, And then gets the blessing to become the future Mrs. Blythe, Anne meets Mr. Blythe, F/M, Gilbert Blythe is my husband, Renew Anne with an E, So this is thinly veiled wish fulfillment, Why can't I have nice things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26418820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsowriterly/pseuds/notsowriterly
Summary: While most of the Modern AU drabbles follow canon pretty closely, these are ones that are part of the universe but are canon divergent and so don't really follow the format of the rest of the series.“Thank you, Anne with an E.” He held out a hand for her to shake. She shook it, but then his grip tightened, and his gaze went sharp. “Keep my son on his toes, eh? Don’t let him get too complacent.”Anne smiled a shark-like grin. “I wouldn’t dream of it, sir.”He patted her hand, finally letting it go and closing his eyes. “Just John, dear,” he sighed out, seeming already half-way to sleep. “Tell Marilla… Tell Marilla I said hello.”Anne’s eyebrows furrowed. “Of course, Mr—I mean, John.”
Relationships: Diana Barry & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe & Mary Lacroix, Gilbert Blythe & Sebastian "Bash" Lacroix, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley, Marilla Cuthbert & Matthew Cuthbert & Anne Shirley, Mary Lacroix/Sebastian ''Bash'' Lacroix
Series: AWAE Modern AU Drabbles [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1917235
Comments: 15
Kudos: 66





	1. Anne Meets John Blythe (PROPERLY)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in the show, I found it kind of odd that Anne wouldn't like, offer any help to Mr. Blythe, seeing her take-charge nature in face of every other sick character. And I wanted Mr. Blythe to meet and approve of Anne before he goes. Like an extra form of blessing. 
> 
> Enjoy

Stupid Professor Philips. Stupid Gilbert Blythe. What was the point of technology if Anne had to go Gilbert Blythe’s house to give him his stupid notes? Curse Gilbert for having a house so close to the Cuthberts. Anne had to reassure Ruby fifty times that she’d rather be doing anything else before heading over. 

The house seemed nice, completely ill fitting a jerk like Gilbert Blythe. The front porch had windchimes, but instead of sounding like regular bells, these sounded reminiscent of some Eastern Asian instrument Anne didn’t know the name of. The bars were silver, but the ring was red painted wood, with symbols embossed in dark metal. They were actually kind of… pretty. 

Anne snapped out of it. She was _not_ going to consider anything in Gilbert’s house pretty. 

She rang the doorbell, and waited a couple of seconds. There wasn’t even movement in the house. She sighed. Figures. She came all this way and Gilbert couldn’t even be bothered to come up to the front door to get it. She rang the doorbell again, and knocked for good measure. 

And then did the whole thing again, twice more. 

She glared at the door. “Gilbert Blythe! I don’t care if you’re hung over, if you don’t get the front door I will—” The door swung open to a man who immediately moved to use the doorway as a cane to prop him up right. He had bright blue eyes ringed with purple bruises and his face was wide set despite his sallow cheeks. His hair was thin and what parts of it were still left were barely visible given their blonde color. It was his nose that gave him away, however. It was the same annoyingly perfect shape as Gilbert’s. 

“I felt like I didn’t want to hear the end of that sentence. Sorry for the wait,” he said. His voice was warm, hoarse. Anne didn’t know what made a more immediate first impression, his sickness or his joviality. 

“Um, I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t be. Gilbert went out to the store, for an emergency. I’m afraid I haven’t been able to… Well, it doesn’t matter. Come on in.” 

Anne didn’t hesitate to duck under his arm, hefting upright as they made their way inside. Mr. Blythe huffed out a laugh in surprise, leaning on her despite himself. He barely weighed anything at all. 

“You don’t have to do that, dear, I’m perfectly—”

“Would you prefer the bedroom or the living room?” Anne asked. 

Mr. Blythe sighed. “The living room. I want to be in a room with sunshine.” 

“Good choice,” Anne said, and Mr. Blythe chuckled again. She set him down on the couch, and he beamed up at her. Anne moved to the kitchen, pulling open cupboards. “Would you happen to know where the glasses are? Wait, never mind.” She opened the door to a couple of mismatched mugs, and got one and filled it up with water, bringing it over. 

Mr. Blythe accepted it with another one of his toothy smiles. “Gilbert should be back soon.” 

Anne nodded, looking down. She hated herself, but she was dying with curiosity. Gilbert seemed to have the perfect answer to everything, everything she’d ever wanted. She’d never expected his home life to be like this. She was abruptly hungry for every scrap of information about him. 

No. Think about Ruby. And how he’d call her _Carrots_. 

Yet, her eyes wandered to the photos decorating the walls. 

Mr. Blythe caught her looking, and his smile when she caught his gaze again was far too knowing. She felt her ears turn red despite herself, and she cleared her throat, taking a seat. 

“I’ve heard good things about you, you know.” 

“From who?” Anne blurted out, then went red again. 

Mr. Blythe smiled, and here was another Gilbert expression, despite most of the features being different. It was the smile he’d worn on that first day, offering her an apple. “He says you’re quite the orator.” 

Anne clenched her jaw. Of course Mr. Blythe thought Gilbert was being nice. He didn’t know those were backhanded compliments. 

“I was wondering… there’s a book, on my nightstand, the room right by the front door. Could you come here and read it to me?” 

Anne jumped to her feet with a relieved sigh. This, she could do. She retrieved the book. It was a book of poems, and when she opened it, it fell right to a page in the middle. Anne knew that when a book did that, it was a sign of a page well loved. Anne cleared her throat, and began to read, making it as dramatical as possible. “A foot and light hearted, I take to the open road…”

She’d just gotten to the end of the poem when a door slammed open. “Dad? Dad!” 

Mr. Blythe sighed, clearly preparing to call out, but before he could Anne called, “We’re in here!” 

There was an abrupt silence, and then the sound of footsteps coming closer. Anne tucked her hair back from where it flew out during her recitation, and straightened out her clothes, just in time for Gilbert to peer around the corner. He was in a wool sweater, hair messier than usual, and when he caught sight of her, he paused for a moment, staring. 

“What… what’re you doing here?” 

Anne wrinkled her nose, making sure to convey as much annoyance as possible, taking the notes and thrusting them at him. “I brought you notes. Apparently, since I’m closest, it’s my job to be your personal mailman.” 

Gilbert raised an eyebrow, taking the notes gingerly. “Don’t you mean mailwoman?” 

“Gender is a construct,” Anne snapped. Instead of having a normal reaction, Gilbert laughed, barely more than a puff of air. He looked down, traces of laughter still on his face, and shook his head.

“Ah, Carrots. Never change,” he said, and Anne glared at him. 

“I’ll pour another drink over your head, don’t think I won’t.” She crossed her arms, looking him up and down. “Maybe I should do it anyway. You look like you need a shower.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, your highness, if I’d known you were visiting I would’ve dressed in my finest suit,” Gilbert said, faux-curtsying and peering up at her under his lashes, his smile sharp with mockery. Anne scoffed, feeling a familiar, nervous energy overtake her. Stupid Gilbert Blythe and his stupid eyes. 

“See to it that you do,” she said, after an unnaturally long pause. Her awkwardness cut the teasing atmosphere in the room immediately. Anne couldn’t tell if that was better or worse. She stared down at her shoes. The room went silent. 

“You were right, son, Anne is quite the orator,” Mr. Blythe said finally. Unlike Gilbert, she could tell that Mr. Blythe actually meant it, and her face warmed with the praise.

“Not just that. Anne is good at everything.” Anne looked up at Gilbert. His expression was open, warm. And then his earnest expression fell into a smirk. “Except math.” 

_That little…_

“Oh, just you wait, Gilbert Blythe, by the time you come back I’m going to be at the top of the class, and that will shut you up.” 

Gilbert waved the papers in his hand. “Not with these notes, you aren’t. If you’re going to beat me, it’ll have to be fair and square.” 

Anne clenched her jaw. “It will be.” She turned to Mr. Blythe. “It was an absolute pleasure meeting you, Mr. Blythe. Your choice in poetry is exquisite.” 

“Thank you, Anne with an E.” He held out a hand for her to shake. She shook it, but then his grip tightened, and his gaze went sharp. “Keep my son on his toes, eh? Don’t let him get too complacent.” 

Anne smiled a shark-like grin. “I wouldn’t dream of it, sir.” 

He patted her hand, finally letting it go and closing his eyes. “Just John, dear,” he sighed out, seeming already half-way to sleep. “Tell Marilla… Tell Marilla I said hello.” 

Anne’s eyebrows furrowed. “Of course, Mr—I mean, John.” 

He didn’t acknowledge her further than a small smile, and when she turned, Gilbert was looking at his father, gaze soft. His mind seemed a million miles away. 

“Gil?” She asked. 

“Hm?” He looked up at her, but his mind still seemed far away. “I’ll walk you to the door.” 

Anne hitched her backpack higher over her shoulder, stepping onto the porch, when Gilbert called out her name. She turned around, an eyebrow raised. “Thanks,” he said softly. And then he seemed to force his face back into a lighter expression. “For the notes. And for calling me Gil.” 

Anne’s mouth dropped open. “I did not call you—”

“Bye, Carrots!” He said, sing-song, and _closed the door on her face_. 

“ _Gilbert Blythe_!” She shrieked, but all she could hear was his laughter through the door, and she clenched her fist, stomping her way back home. 

Stupid Gilbert Blythe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I wrote Gil a little more teasing than he really was in the show at this point, but I kind of like to think of it as he's kind of older, and he hasn't met Anne until he was eighteen, so he has a little more of that... smooth talker, class favorite personality than he would otherwise. Not that I don't think that Gilbert is teasing naturally, because he is, but I feel like it comes out a lot in season one, and as he goes through the seasons with Anne, he becomes more earnest. And I attribute part of that, to the lack of Anne in his life, and his position as the most popular boy in class. And without Anne there as he grows, I feel like that aspect of his personality will be able to steep a little bit more until he's a little more teasing. Our perfect gentleman, earnest boy comes into play later tho, don't worry!


	2. Mary and Gilbert take on Floral Arrangements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary moves in and starts to plan a wedding. Gilbert helps... kind of. And then Mary helps him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this either of the prompts that people asked for? No, and I'm sorry but I just saw the Bog episodes and I just love Mary SO MUCH. The actress has such a kind, beautiful face, and I can really see how Bash would look at her for the first time and be like, "that one. That's my angel." And when Gilbert looked back and was like, "I want to be with my family"? DEAD. 
> 
> So as you can see, I _had_ to write this. 
> 
> The other prompted pieces are still coming up, don't worry! I promise I'll get to them soon, even if other pieces might inspire me first.

Mary had wanted to have the wedding in the Bog church, only partially so as not to have these white folk call the cops over such a large gathering of black folk. She also felt the beauty of it, having her wedding in the same church she'd gone to in one of the worst times in her life, the beacon of hope that she thought she'd become numb to only for it to come fluttering to life, the first time she saw those wide dark eyes peering at her through the window.

It also felt nicer to decorate, she'd thought. Less like the alien, pristine church here, where the sermon was far too quiet and the pews looked far less lived in, less loved. It felt like decorating a home instead of a showroom.

Now looking at the floral arrangements, it was clear that she'd spoken far too soon.

She groaned and put her head down on the table. She'd survived a teen pregnancy, nineteen years being a black woman in the Bog, and Lord knows what else. And now she was meeting her end, by flowers.

"You okay, Mary?"

Mary didn't even have it in her to be startled. Being in a room alone with Gilbert Blythe was a rare thing, and Mary, despite her warm attitude, didn't know much how to feel about it. She was polite and he was polite, but she was aware they barely knew each other outside of their shared love for Bash. Suddenly moving into his home like this sometimes felt like living like a guest when he was around, and Mary was working hard to stop feeling that way.

Apparently wanting to jump off a cliff over floral arrangements solved that.

"These flowers are gonna kill me," she said, unfortunately aware that it came out as a whine.

"What a way to go though," he said, and she was glad he sounded more absent minded than amused, because if not she'd have to stab him, Bash's brother or no.

He pulled the pictures forward, eyebrows furrowing the same way they did when he was doing his organic chemistry homework.

"Have you asked Bash what he thinks?"

"Bash said all he wants is for me to be at the end of the altar, and for there to be good food at the reception. The rest should be whatever makes me happy." Curse that stupidly thoughtful man.

"Sounds like him," Gilbert said. Then he paused, and said, softer, "He's been over the moon since you moved in, you know."

Mary grinned to herself. He had been, and he'd shown it... Thoroughly. She had to tamp down a giggle, which was completely ridiculous. She doesn't even remember the last time she actually _giggled_. Oh, right, last night, after Bash had... _Ahem_. Never mind. She pushed the memory away forcibly.

Then Gilbert continued. "I have been too." Mary looked up. Gilbert was looking down at the magazine with laser focus. "This house finally feels like a home again."

Mary knew Gilbert lost not just his dad, but his entire family, in a seemingly never ending tale of tragedy. Apparently Gilbert didn't even talk about it much to Bash, and looking at him now, Mary understood. His grief seemed to be a burden too heavy for him to bear. Before this Mary hadn't realized how deep the hurts of his childhood must've run. He seemed to be using the patented Mary method of keeping his head down and moving forward against the onslaught of life.

Maybe she and Gilbert had more in common than she'd thought.

She put her hand over his, and he stiffened, looking up. She gave him a warm, reassuring smile before adopting Bash's patented smirk. "That's very sweet, Gilbert, but I know you're only trying to sweet talk me into cooking dinner again."

Gilbert grinned at her. "Is it working?"

"Nope, and that's not getting you out of helping with these floral arrangements either." She looked back down at the chrysanthemums, steeling herself for another round. "Use that college education to good use, Blythe, we have flowers to pick."

There was the silence for a moment, only punctuated by the sound of shuffling papers. Then Gilbert straightened up out of the corner of her eye. "You know, I have a friend, her name is Anne, and she's obsessed with flowers. I'm pretty sure she'd pay _us_ to be able to do this."

"Ah, your feisty, red-headed girl friend. Bash told me all about her." Gilbert spluttered and she cut him off without looking up. "Call her over quick, and change into that nice grey henley. She's never going to fall for you if you wear hoodies all the time."

Gilbert choked on seemingly a thousand denials, pulling back his chair and going into the other room to make the call.

Mary noticed, however, that when Anne finally arrived, he was wearing the gray henley she'd told him to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do think that Gilbert is still in the same denial he was in season two, and he's telling himself that he's only wearing that henley because they're having guests over and he should be presentable. As if _that's_ the reason he stood in front of the mirror and messed with his hair for ten minutes. We stan one grade A, grass-fed, organic free range dumb egg.
> 
> (Meanwhile Anne got all dressed up to go over because of her "potential supportive adult" kink. Bless her heart.)


	3. Mary and Anne Take on Floral Arrangements (With Much More Success)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"What does Bash make you feel? What words would you use to describe your relationship?”_
> 
> _Mary looked skeptical. “And this is going to help me pick out my flowers?” She shot Gilbert a look, but Gilbert didn’t offer any reassurance save for his grin growing wider. Mary may not have been used to Anne’s unusual methods, but Gilbert had first hand seen the results. Anne could create beautiful sentiments out of words, thin air, and he had no doubt she could do the same out of anything tangible. He couldn’t wait to see the moment that Mary realized._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of the last chapter, because there had to be more.

“I have a plan,” Anne said, as soon as Gilbert opened the door. She was holding a binder as thick as her head, and her jaw was set in the familiar way it got when Anne was planning on carrying something out, come hell or high water. 

Gilbert had the mildly terrifying realization that he might’ve just unleashed a monster. 

“Hello, Anne, it’s nice to see you too, Anne,” he said, moving aside so she could come in, and Anne shot him a dirty look as she brushed past him. 

Gilbert wasn’t surprised. Ever since Ms. Stacy came into town, him and Anne’s friendly competition seemed to have an undercurrent of something… Brittle. Sharp. That is to say, Anne hadn’t spoken to him without snapping at him for weeks. 

But she’d come when he’d called, so whatever it was, their friendship didn’t seem to be broken. 

Just… bent. For now. 

Mary came out of the dining room, and Anne brightened at the sight of her, rushing over to shake her hand vigorously. “You must be Mary! I’ve heard so much about you!” 

Well she hadn’t been talking to Gilbert about it, so—Gilbert wrinkled his nose. “Have you been texting my brother?” He asked, just in time for Mary to speak over him, saying, “I’ve heard so much about you too!” 

Gilbert narrowed her eyes at Anne’s back as she led Mary back into the dining room, already started babbling about how “Bash was right, your smile is as warm as the mid-summer Avonlea sun!” He knew that Anne had heard him, and he knew she purposefully wasn’t responding. 

They better not have been texting again. Whenever Bash met with Anne, Gilbert’s humiliation was near ensured. They were a formidable force together, and their favorite pastime was definitely Bash entertaining Anne with tales of Gilbert’s idiocy. It was bad enough that Gilbert had to use Anne’s phone once to call Bash and saw that Bash’s contact name in her phone was still, “the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.” 

Please. She hadn’t seen him covered in engine grease and piss drunk at three in the morning. 

Gil huffed and followed them to the table, taking a seat at the head of the table. Anne was flipping through the binder, worrying her teeth with her lip, and the plastic slip covers crinkled with the vigour that she thumbed through them. The slip covers were filled with paper and pressed flowers, little notes scribbled on the edges in Anne’s familiar scrawl. The sight made Gilbert grin. It was such an Anne thing to have made. Sometimes he wondered how she existed out of a story book. She seemed for all the world like a dashing heroine that belonged in a world of myth instead of here, in Avonlea, at his dining table, helping his future sister-in-law pick out table pieces and bouquets. 

Finally she nodded and pushed the binder away, straightening up and looking at Mary with a piercing gaze. “Okay, I got this. Now, what do you want to say, at your wedding?” 

Mary blinked. “Like, my vows?” 

Anne frowned. “Maybe that’s not the right way to put it. I mean more like…What does Bash make you feel? What words would you use to describe your relationship?” 

Mary looked skeptical. “And this is going to help me pick out my flowers?” She shot Gilbert a look, but Gilbert didn’t offer any reassurance save for his grin growing wider. Mary may not have been used to Anne’s unusual methods, but Gilbert had first hand seen the results. Anne could create beautiful sentiments out of words, thin air, and he had no doubt she could do the same out of anything tangible. He couldn’t wait to see the moment that Mary realized. 

Mary turned back to Anne just in time for Anne to fix her with her wide-eyed, ocean blue Stare of Doom. Whenever Gilbert saw that earnest expression in her face, he knew that anyone on the opposing end would have to give in. Anne’s particular brand of heart-of-gold-on-her-sleeve charm was hard to resist. Unless you were a particularly heartless Billy Andrews or Josie Pye. 

“Absolutely,” Anne said, words as heavy as an oath, and Mary took another look at her expression before sighing and looking down, wringing her hands. 

“I suppose… Hope.” She opened her mouth again, as if she was going to say something more, and then shut it, focusing on her twisting fingers. “Yeah, hope,” she murmured. 

Anne tamped down a squeal, but that just meant it came down as a squeak, and she let out a sigh of ecstasy. “ _That is so romantical_.”

Gilbert snorted, rolling his eyes. He knocked on the table, drawing Anne out of her trance. “Don’t get too lost in your head, Juliet, we have work to do.” 

Anne scowled at him. “Just because you don’t have a romantical, imaginative bone in your body—”

Gilbert scoffed, leaning forward. “Excuse you, what evidence do you have of that?”

Anne raised her eyebrows. “You haven’t done anything for Ruby, ever.” 

Gilbert frowned. “What does that even have to do with—”

“ _Ahem_.” Mary looked partly amused, partly frustrated. “I believe we were supposed to be talking about flowers?” 

Anne cleared her throat. “Right. Hope, you said? What about daisies?” 

Mary’s eyebrows flew up. “Daisies?” 

“You could do regular ones, or gerbera ones. And then maybe some greenery and some baby’s breath, wouldn’t that just be _divine_?” Anne sighed out, putting her chin in her hand. 

“Yellow and white?” Mary asked. “I haven’t seen those colors often at weddings.”

Anne’s face fell, imperceptibly. “Right, well, we can do something else, that isn’t—”

Mary shook her head. “No, no, actually… yellow’s my favorite color.” 

Anne’s face brightened again. “Really? That’s so fitting! Yellow would look divine on you, and it’s such a sunny, glorious color wouldn’t you say?” 

Mary’s face held the beginnings of a smile. “And it means hope? The yellow daisies?” 

Anne nodded. “Yeah, and I believe…” She flipped through her binder, coming to the right page and reading out, “happiness, and loyal love.” 

Mary’s face softened. “That’s… that’s beautiful Anne. Daisies. I love it.” 

Anne beamed. “You can string them through your hair, too. I believe flowers in the hair makes anyone look like a fairy. Even me.” 

_Especially you_ , Gilbert wanted to say, but he had no idea how Anne would take that. Her appearance seemed to be a sensitive topic that he didn’t want to press, especially when they’d just barely gotten back to talking terms. 

Despite the quick decision, Anne stayed there for an hour yet, and both the women relegated Gilbert to a yes-man that brought them tea, but Gilbert didn’t particularly mind. It was almost magical, to see his brother’s happiest day half come to life right before his eyes. 

Even after Anne left, Mary’s eyes were sparkling. Gilbert grinned at her. “I take it you like her then? I knew it. Anne wins over everyone eventually.”

Mary gave him an indecipherable look, smiling softly. “Bash is right, you are a ‘moke.’” 

Gilbert frowned. “Hey, what—”

Mary put a hand on his arm. “You picked a wonderful girl, Gilbert.” 

And that was all the explanation she gave him. 


	4. Anne and Gilbert, Post Queens (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is kind of a multiple part drabble of a storyline I have for Anne after she graduates from Queens. It's kind of based on the Roy Gardner story line, about how Anne handles becoming an adult and the way it doesn't match exactly with her whimsical imagination. Don't worry, there's no cheating because I ABHOR it, and Shirbert is my OTP so any angst will not be for long and will be added with the goal to strengthen their relationship. 
> 
> As some one who graduated college pretty recently, I just have some adulthood-is-scary feels that I'm projecting onto Anne, don't mind me.

Moving in with Gilbert was… different. After spending most of their masters in a long distance relationship, with stupid dorm rules and bus fares and inclement weather keeping them apart, they’d finally be together. And not just together, but living in the same apartment. 

Anne knew she had no reason to be nervous. Gilbert and her were far from what they’d started out as, and even if they weren’t, she knew that Gilbert and her always had each other’s backs. 

But it was still a lot, at once. She felt the trappings of adulthood far more keenly than she did when she started her masters. Those two years in that apartment, with the girls constantly by her side, she was constantly caught up in one adventure after the other, and Marilla always berated her on their weekly call telling her that she was too childish for her own good. 

She didn’t feel quite childish now, sitting on her bed, waiting for her boyfriend to finish his nightly shower before crawling into bed. She’d wake up with Gilbert, right next to her side, for possibly the rest of her life. She was excited, and she wasn’t. A part of her was aware that it was Gilbert, her boyfriend and her friend for the last half a dozen years, someone who’d seen her drunk and seen her pernicious and stubborn, who’d born all of her fits of passion and temper. Someone who’d always listened to what she had to say and made her feel _good_ and steady about herself. 

But on paper it seemed so… adult. Serious and somber. Her and Gil had been through death and disaster, long distance and college, and yet this all of a sudden felt like something more mature than Anne could handle. 

She’d been chasing age and sophistication all her life, but what was she supposed to do when she seemingly got it? 

“Anne?”

Anne startled at Gilbert's voice. When she turned around he was toweling his hair, familiar hazel eyes warm with concern. 

She smiled at him, though she could tell it wasn’t convincing. “Hey. That was quick.” 

Gilbert raised an eyebrow. “No it wasn’t. You were just too caught up in your thoughts to notice.” He slung his towel over the nearby chair, crawling onto the bed behind her. He smelled just as he always did, of earth and mint and faintly, despite his shower, of antiseptic. When he rested his chin on her shoulder, the smell was bolstered by the nearness and heat of him, almost making it heady. 

She leaned back into him, letting out a breath. 

“You okay?” 

Anne hummed, tangling her fingers with his. “Now, yeah. I just… think too much.” 

“About what?” 

She didn’t know how to put her thoughts into words, especially words that wouldn’t concern him beyond what the thoughts actually warranted. She shook her head, sitting up and turning to face him. “Stupid things. Utterly stupid and unimportant things, given I have The Gilbert Blythe in bed with me.” She made her voice sound extra posh, ridiculously so, and she reveled in the way such a simple thing brought out Gilbert’s gorgeous smile, warm and radiant and just for her. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheek, and then her chin, as he leaned forward, placing a feather soft kiss, right at the edge of her jaw. 

“The Gilbert Blythe, hm? What exactly do you plan to do with him then?” 

Anne put her arms around him, drawing him close. “I was thinking _everything_ , for a start.” 

“Sounds marvelous,” he murmured into her skin.

And then she didn’t think of anything but Gil, for a long while after. 

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone has any requests for any scenes they can leave a message in my inbox, [here](https://thesenseinnonsense.tumblr.com/), or in the comments below!


End file.
